


Heaven

by XOrca (xorcae)



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Daddy Issues, Light BDSM, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 11:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15885570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xorcae/pseuds/XOrca
Summary: Joe really doesn't want to continue his work for Smith, so John takes it upon himself to entice him. Oneshot"No need to imagine'Cause I know it's trueThey say 'all good boys go to heaven'But bad boys bring heaven to you"





	Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic!! I really wanted to dive in headfirst into one of my favorite series - MITHC. I encourage you to leave your comments and constructive criticism. I plan on writing more fics for these two (and other pairings) in the future. Thank you so much!

He had the film.

But he had seen enough.

Walking up the many steps to the Obergruppenführer’s office, Joe Blake heaves a deep sigh into the air, passing the guards, and not planning to wait if anyone should stop him. He had been here enough times that his face was recognizable. A quick thought passed through his mind that it might be too recognizable, but he brushed it off and knocked three times against the solid oak doors.

A faint ‘come in’ ushered Joe into the atmospheric room that lay thick with the smell of cigarette smoke and a hint of cologne. The evening sun painted through the large windows, onto the dark wood furnishings and décor. John Smith had his back turned to the doors, his hands flipping through a manila folder. 

“I expect you came with what I requested?” Smith asked in his unreadable tone as he tossed the folder onto the desk, taking a drag from his cigarette and turning to face the man that served as his spy, his source of information.

Joe’s heart began to beat faster than before, on edge from John’s immediate, intimidating presence. The fully decorated uniform he always wore didn’t help, either. He carried himself like a wolf in human skin, he thought. John waved Joe down to sit in the leather chair behind him. Joe slowly handed the reel of dusty film to his superior, waiting for the patronizing praise that he had received countless times before.

“I’m impressed, Joseph,” John murmured, turning the rusty casing in his palms as he gave pause. “If you keep this up, you will be climbing the ranks before you know it,” he said lightly, slowly pacing around the chair, as if he was sizing up his protégé. The smoke began to form a trail around them, floating stagnant in the air, until it fell and dissipated.

Joe, in his nervous frustration, quickly ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, shaking his head in disdain. It was hard to look at John while saying something he knew all too well would dig under his skin. Grey eyes transforming steely and cold; calculating. But, in his exasperation, decided to say it anyway.

“I can’t keep doing this. Those people died on that damned boat. I’m not the man for this,” he gritted his teeth, finally looking up at Smith, whose eyes predictably hardened in thought.

“You should feel proud. You’re helping the Reich, Joe,” John quietly sighed, walking over to snuff out the cigarette in the ashtray on the desk. He turned back to face the young man, crossing one pristine boot over another, and he leaned cockeyed into the wood frame; placing the reel next to him. 

The Reich? Joe didn’t care about an organization, he worked for people. He sidled up with John because he felt as if he was taken under his wing; but began to realize the man was just using him for his own means. A slow, kneading feeling welling in his gut that was bubbling up in anger and bitterness. Maybe jealousy? But over what? 

“Can I go?” Joe asked curtly, fidgeting in the seat. A surge of emotions flooded inside of him, and it was becoming harder to control under a quiet demeanor.

“Wait,” John said casually. He lined two glass tumblers next to each other, pouring glistening amber whiskey into each of them. It wasn’t like him to drink on the job, but it was half past six now, and most people were leaving the building. Joe instinctively waved his hand away, but John persisted.

“I have information for you this time. But I need you to stay.” John said, throwing a piece of the bait out to him.

Joe hesitated. “What could you have that would even interest me?” his tone was becoming petulant.

John clicked his tongue in disapproval. Joe felt a wave of embarrassment catch him, and the man wasn’t even his father. His heart palpated, and he instinctively clenched his fist, hidden under the armrest. John sensed the tension in the room, with the last rays of the sun illuminating one side of each of them as the night consumed the remaining beams.

“I’ve done some digging; researching. We’ve been in contact with a handful of people in Berlin, Joe. I’ve found your father.” 

John didn’t take his gaze away from Joe’s widening blue eyes. He lifted the tumbler to his mouth and offered the other to him.

Now, Joe decided to take the drink. He swallowed it rapidly, his glass emptying. “I’m listening,” he tried to mutter coolly, but it just came out all too eager; anticipatory. He didn’t pay the slightest of mind to the strong burning in his throat. This was too great of a personal matter for him to care about anything else.

“Good. We can talk more about this, when you give me something in return,” John retorted confidently.  
There was a pause, as the blonde cocked his head in disbelief.

“What more do you want from me? I’m leaving if this is the game you’re going to play,” Joe snapped, standing up from the chair, the steel now glowing in his eyes. He felt the warmth of the alcohol drift through his body as he stood so quickly.

A hand swiftly wrapped behind his neck, firmly grabbing the scruff as if he was a dog. “You need to listen to me if you want answers!” John grunted under his breath.

Joe could smell the heavy mix of alcohol and cologne emanating close around him. Adrenaline jumped throughout his body, ready to take a heavy fist to the face, or something of the like. Suddenly, he was yanked to the desk, his upper half bent over, the world spinning.

“Y-yes sir,” Joe managed to yelp out before he took any rougher handling. He knew John like the back of his hand, and he would say anything to get him to relent. The man had manipulated, twisted, and killed – even people within his circle. There was no way he was going to try to push his limits to land in those categories. Why was it so difficult to stand up to this figure in his life? He felt as if his body was becoming high off of the palpable emotions between them. In such a submissive state, it was a rush.

John’s grasp softened. The uniformed man’s lips curled into half-smile as he took another gulp of the whiskey. He noticed Joe’s hands shaking. 

“Do you like this, Joe? I can tell from the times we’ve had our discussions, that you were a little too subservient around me, more than anyone else. Your cheeks redden so deeply, but you like to blame that on your temper,” he chuckled.

Joe broke into a hot sweat, realizing where this conversation was going. What Smith really wanted. What he wanted. The ticking of the clock became a blur in his ears. 

“If they find out – “

“-Don’t concern yourself with that. And if they do, it’s you who will be killed for spreading lies,” John coldly responded, attempting to sternly warn him of the consequences of being involved in the Reich. 

There was a long silence. 

John thought it was an appropriate time to turn Joe to face him, to read his thoughts. In an unusually gentle manner, he twisted him around, Blake’s back at an odd angle with the desk and John looming over him. Keenly intuitive at reading Joe’s body language, he separated his legs so that his body pressed against Joe’s. Legs relaxed against his waist, and arms now draping over his shoulders.  
Joe understood the gravity of the situation he was in, but the iron knot in his stomach wouldn’t untie. Never had he been the one put in place by someone so utterly, completely. It was entirely unique to him and John. The nagging erection that was growing against his dress pants caught John’s eye, and his hand quickly reached between them, groping roughly. Joe arched his back off the table, and bit his lip, stifling a satisfied moan. 

“Exactly as I thought. I can read you like a book,” John leaned in and purred into his ear, teeth grazing over the top. As Joe eagerly dug his fingertips into the black fabric, John reached down for his silver-enameled buckle, slid the black belt through the rungs in one motion, and pushed Joe’s wrists to the table with one hand.

Panting and attempting to look at his constrained wrists, Joe’s eyes are half-lidded and he’s so ready to be taken, it was almost comical. John deftly wrapped the belt around them, tying them snugly together. 

Smith took his time unbuttoning the light blue shirt Joe wore, enjoying each peek underneath of his lightly tanned chest that was heaving below him. But his trousers quickly came down with one yank. The blush red cock that was underneath was hard as diamond, ready for him. Joe couldn’t hide his face which was as pretty red as his member.

John was hard as well, but he thought teasing Joe was the better route instead, so he chose to keep his uniform pants on for the moment. He pressed two fingers into Joe’s mouth, slicking them with saliva, and wasted no time pressing them against his hole that clenched at the touch. 

One finger slid in easily, but Joe was like a vice. He grimaced at first, but relaxed and bucked up against John’s hand, begging for more. This made Smith’s cock twitch in excitement, preparing himself for the feeling that would consume him. Two fingers now snugly inside, rocking back and forth. Joe moved with the motions, losing himself. 

How did we even get here? Joe’s brain questioned – a coherence amongst a swirl of feelings and undecipherable thoughts. He looked at John – his carved cheekbones, dark hair, striking black Schutzstaffel garb, and finally found something to breathe in. He let John have control over him and took in the moment; relinquished.

“I need more,” Joe demanded, and John raised an eyebrow in surprise at him.  
Pulling his coated fingers out, he watched with pleasure as Joe licked them clean. Not wasting a moment, the Obergruppenführer lowered his pants and pushed inside with one swift motion.  
Joe cried out, a blending of pain and pleasure filling him.  
“F-Fuck…!” he writhed underneath John’s body, fabric, medals, and flesh scraping against his torso.  
John groaned against Joe’s ear. Tighter than his wife, or any woman he fucked in the army, that was for certain. He focused on the wolf carving on the back of his office wall to maintain his composure, and then proceeded to rut up against Joe’s body senseless.

Joe wanted to touch himself desperately, but the wrist restraint had no give. He whined, sweet orgasm just a few strokes away. John took this as an opportunity to push in, hard, with every thrust, aiming for his prostate. And that was enough to send him over the edge, semen spilling out onto his chest, dripping onto the oak desk, and Smith’s boots.

John was not far behind, and filled Joe with his come, the hot liquid painting his insides. His hands gripped tightly into Joe’s messy hair, as he groaned, finishing inside.

“You’re something, Joseph,” he huffed, a genuine grin melting the silence and tension away. Joe smiled back at him, chuckle in the back of his throat.

There was no time wasted on his end as far as cleanup was concerned, John taking a towel to his exposed body and coated boots, he was pristinely dressed and ready to go back to his wife and family who were waiting for him. While untying his restraints, John handed Joe the towel, he knew it would take a bit longer for him to come around and look presentable.

Bathing in the afterglow, Joe didn’t want to move, but knew life didn’t stop for their criminal record. As he wiped himself clean, trying to part his hair back into position, he noticed a shine in John’s eyes that he didn’t have before.

“Your father is Martin Heusmann, Joe.” John pulled down his tunic and buckled the belt neatly back into place.

“Who is he?” Joe asked flatly, out of energy to inflect his tone.

“Your Lebensborn father,” John replied, readying to leave the office, keys jingling in his pocket.  
Joe’s mouth now hung slightly agape.  
“W-what are you talking about?!” Joe, now completely sober and aware, stood up, hoping to stop his mentor from leaving. 

“We can discuss this more tomorrow. You have a lot to learn. Same time, same place?”  
John’s back was turned to the man, but he knew Joe wouldn’t be able to resist that double entendre.

_and he was right._


End file.
